


I Believe

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amidst some news, Duncan remembers back to a simpler time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Adult material, male/male and male/female, all lyrics are The Beatles, for the Picture Challenge

Duncan slid his arm out of his coat sleeve, then shifted his mail to his other hand to accommodate the other side. Once free of the cumbersome material, he shucked it across the couch and padded across the room towards the thermostat and light fixtures. Methos was not home yet, a fact he knew well before reaching the top floor of the high-rise apartment building where they lived.

The sun was quickly setting, throwing a maze of interwoven grays and shadows into the room from the partially open blinds. The chill nipped at exposed skin and he shivered as he clicked on the living room lamp and reached for the thermostat. That would never do, he thought to himself. Even though he was reasonably comfortable dressed in his dark turtleneck sweater and slacks, his lover hated the cold and would most likely grumble if left unheeded.

Of course, he thought with a smile, there were ways of getting warm. Enjoyable ways involving a crackling fire in the fireplace, a heady wine, lots of warm blankets and lube. Oh, yes. Lots of warm, slick lube. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed the letter as he sifted through the mail.

Almost....

He frowned, thoughts of romance and lovemaking quickly abandoned, and ripped open the letter.

> >   
>  _Mr. MacLeod:_  
> 

> >   
>  _We regretfully inform you that...._  
> 

  


The words ran together on the page until he had to blink back the tears to see them. His heart sank and his throat constricted around the knot that suddenly formed, taking both breath and speech. God, why did it always have to hurt so much?

~~~~~~

_**February 9, 1964** _  
_Seattle, Washington_

"Duncan." He was greeted with cheerful enthusiasm before a soft mouth covered his lips and a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist.

"Duncan," a deeper female voice called out from the kitchen. "I'm glad you could make it. Frank is in the study. He'll be out shortly. Come on in and sit down." Ellen Lewis untied her white frilly apron as she stepped into the living room and welcomed her guest. She was a handsome woman in her early forties, her soft brown hair falling in curls around her neck, her dark brown eyes sheltered by a pair of black rimmed glasses. She wore a plain tan dress, its lines simple and straight as it fell just below her knees. Her flat heeled shoes were almost silent as she crossed the hardwood floor to click on the black and white television standing on the far side of the room.

Cyndi Lewis, her outgoing and eager daughter was now tugging at Duncan's hand as she pulled him to the couch. Cyndi was almost the exact opposite of her mother, a fact that seemed to make her extremely happy. Her hair was dark, almost black, teased and sprayed to add fullness before falling in an upsweep around her shoulders. She had liberally applied thick black eyeliner and mascara around her expressive brown eyes, while a light blue blouse and matching pair of pants completed her ensemble.

"Dad, come on," she yelled down the hallway, her voice easily carrying to her father toward the back of the house. She dropped down beside Duncan on the couch, and slid in closer until her slender leg pressed against his thigh. She was almost bursting with enthusiasm when her father strode into the room and sat down in his easy chair.

Frank Lewis clicked on the lamp that was handily situated on the end table next to his chair.

"For crying out loud, Cyndi. It's just a television show. Evening, Duncan. Glad you could get away to join us."

"Dad," she whined and turned to Duncan. "He is so square." She air-drew the shape of a square with her fingers and rolled her eyes. Duncan grinned at the slightly overweight and graying man sitting in the chair across from them.

Mr. Lewis seemed completely unperturbed, however, as he readjusted his glasses and reached for the evening newspaper.

"I wouldn't have missed it," Duncan reassured his host, wincing when Cyndi picked up his hand and squeezed it tightly in her excitement.

"I can't believe they're actually here in America. I would just die to see them in person."

Duncan gently extracted his hand and smiled at the young woman bouncing on the couch beside him. Cyndi was young, barely twenty-one. He met her through a colleague from his antique business, and while she was still immature in some ways, she exuded a radiance and passion for life that he found irresistible.

He normally called on her at the local University where she lived in the dorm while working on her degree in social sciences. But she usually came home on the weekends, and it wasn't long after they'd started dating that he found himself becoming a welcome guest at the Lewis' home.

He had never seen the pert brunette more animated as she popped her gum and jabbered on beside him. While she certainly wasn't shy, she was normally more subdued around him. Until it was announced that the Beatles were going to be on the Ed Sullivan Show, that is. Now she sat beside him with an almost child-like exuberance as her father looked on in sympathy.

Mrs. Lewis was still fussing around the room, putting out bowls of chips and pretzels on the coffee table, when the sound of running feet alerted them of the Lewis' youngest daughter's arrival.

A little girl, wearing a long blue nightgown and clutching a small plastic doll, appeared in front of the television.

"Can I watch?" She tumbled towards her mother.

"Dena, you're supposed to be in bed." Mrs. Lewis admonished her five-year-old daughter as she gave her a hug and kissed her cheek.

"But Barbie and I wanna see the Beates."

"Beatles, you little moron. Mom, put her back to bed. Please."

"Cyndi, she's not causing any harm. You can stay up, pumpkin. But just until after the Beatles are on," Mrs. Lewis told her daughter in mock sternness.

Duncan patted the space beside him on the couch. "Come on up here and sit beside me, Dena."

She stuck her tongue out at her older sister, and ran towards the couch and Duncan's open arms.

Ignoring his girlfriend's annoyed glare, Duncan sighed and reached down to pull the little girl up beside him to fit inside the curve of his arm. She wriggled closer and giggled, her brown eyes full of mischief when she grinned up at him. He smoothed back her reddish brown bangs from her forehead and winked at her, smiling broadly when she giggled again.

The announcement from the television broke the tension in the room and he winced when an excited scream pierced his ear.

**"Ladies and Gentlemen. Ed Sullivan."**

_Oh yeah, I'll tell you something_  
_I think you'll understand._  
_When I'll say that something_  
_I want to hold your hand,_  
_I want to hold your hand,_  
_I want to hold your hand_

**~~~~~~**

Duncan swallowed hard and looked down at the piece of paper clutched in his hand. How long had he been sitting there? He looked around. It was completely dark outside now. What time was it, he wondered? And where was Methos?

The apartment had warmed up, but it still seemed cold somehow--empty of human warmth--and he shivered in spite of himself. Entering the bedroom, his eyes settled on the mahogany chest at the foot of their king-sized bed. Squatting down, he lifted the heavy lid and began sorting through its contents until he found the manila envelope he was looking for. Pulling it out, he sat down next to the chest and traced over the writing on the front of the envelope with his fingertips. _**1965**_.

He opened the envelope and pulled out the faded photographs. In the back of his mind he heard their laughter. The sound of the music. The smells of a time gone by.

**~~~~~~**

_**March 1965** _

Duncan pulled up in front of the three-story brick dormitory and waited. A glance at his watch told him he was early, so he resigned himself to a long wait and settled back in the seat of his 1964 black Thunderbird. He rolled down his window and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze on his face and neck.

He woke from a light doze some undetermined time later when his passenger side door was flung open and Cyndi slid in beside him. He opened his eyes and gazed at the young woman appreciatively. Her dark hair was now longer and straighter without the beehive affect she had maintained only the year before. Her makeup was gentler, her eyes now circled in dark hues of color. And her clothes had evolved to the new trends worn on the popular dance shows, her skirt shorter, her feet adorned with ankle high white boots.

Her dimpled smile hadn't changed and she gifted him with it now. He held out his arms and she flew into them readily. Her kiss was sweet and welcoming, a kiss hello, a kiss of shared affection and caring. She tasted of bubblegum and soda pop, her tongue warm and slick as it darted between his lips. He kissed her longingly, enjoying the sensation of her body pressed against his own, knowing all too soon she would push him away.

"I missed you," he told her as he reached out to stroke her arm.

"I missed you, too. That was ... Duncan... I...." She whispered with a shy hesitancy. 

"It's all right, Cyndi." He reached over and gently cupped her cheek. "I understand. I can wait until you're ready."

She smiled at him gratefully, her good humor instantly restored. "I know. You've been groovy that way. Hey, I've got something." With an impish grin, she reached into her purse and sorted through its contents until she pulled out a small plastic bag.

Duncan started the car and pulled out onto the street, glancing over as she took out the item and held it out to him.

"It's a joint. My friend Marie gave it to me," she told him when he looked at her questionably. She struck a match and lit it, then shoved it towards him.

He furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to decline, only to be cut off before he could utter the first word.

"Oh, come on, Duncan. Don't tell me you've never smoked a joint before. Everyone is doing it," she added, her chest heaving with an exasperated sigh. "I know you're older, but you've always been hip. Come on. For me." She shifted closer to him across the front seat.

He looked from her face to the joint. Why the hell not, he asked himself? It's not like he'd never tried recreational drugs before. Or worse. He and Brian Cullen had certainly enjoyed themselves. And what harm could it do?

With a resigned sigh, he reached for the pot and placed it between his lips. A slow, deep drag, and he handed it back to the sound of her giggles.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as she took a long drag herself, then reached over to turn on the radio. He felt his tension melt away as the sounds of rock and roll and her laughter filled his ears while the sweet odor of marijuana filled the air.

_Can't buy me love, love_  
_Can't buy me love_  
_I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend if it makes you_  
_Feel alright_  
_I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel alright_  
_'Cause I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love_

**~~~~~~**

Duncan felt immortal presence slither down his spine, and he stiffened momentarily until he recognized the deep thrum of his lover's essence. He heard the door open and close, then Methos was walking around the apartment, making his normal getting home noises as he put away his laptop and struggled out of uncomfortable clothes.

His presence wrapped around Duncan like a balm, and he let out the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. A warmth filled him, and he knew it for the love and desire he held deep inside for the man in the next room. It would be all right now, his mind supplied, and he started to relax, letting go of some of the tension straining his muscles. Sliding the pictures back into the envelope and setting it aside, he picked up the item lying next to him on the floor.

 _The program guide to the Beatles concert at Shea Stadium in 1965._ Ignoring the tear sliding down his cheek, he smiled.

**~~~~~~**

_**August 1965** _

"Hold on, Duncan. One more."

Duncan held out his hand as another piece of luggage was thrust at him in passing. "I hope that's all, Cyndi. We've got to get to the airport if we're going to catch our flight to New York."

Ellen Lewis stepped outside to peck her daughter on the cheek with a kiss as Duncan finished loading the car.

"Later, Mom. I'm so damned excited. I can't believe this. I'm going to see the Beatles. Live. Oh man. This is too far out." Cyndi was bursting with energy and laughter as she relinquished her last piece of luggage and opened the passenger side door.

Duncan started to get in beside her until he noticed Mrs. Lewis trying to soothe the crying child at the front door. He paused, then shut the car door and stepped onto the porch.

Dena was standing in the doorway, her hair mussed from playing, and her eyes red and swollen from crying. She clutched at her Barbie doll with one hand while the other hand reached for Duncan.

"Hey now. What's wrong?" Duncan picked her up and held her to his chest.

She rubbed at tired eyes and sniffled loudly. "I wanna see the Beatles."

Duncan grinned and hugged her tightly. "You can't this time, sweetheart. There's going to be too many people there. Over sixty thousand. Do you know how many that is?"

She shook her head no and pouted while tears fell down her cheeks and she sniffled noisily.

Duncan smiled. "Well, it's lots and lots of people. Too many for a little girl like you to get lost in. Maybe next time. Okay?" He asked her softly.

She nodded and hung onto his neck for a long moment. He started to put her down, but she only clung to him harder.

"Sweetheart, we have to go."

"Mom. For Christ's sake," Cyndi whined from the front seat of the car.

Duncan shot her an irritated glare, then turned his attention back to the little girl in his arms. "Tell you what. What if I let Barbie go with us and she can tell you all about it later?"

Dena looked down at the plastic doll she held in her hand. "Kay." She handed him the doll, watching closely as he slipped it inside his coat pocket.

"There. I promise she won't leave my side. And as soon as we get back, she can tell you all about the concert."

One last sniffle and a kiss and he handed her to her mother. They were on their way to the airport.

_Last night I said these words to my girl,_  
_I know you never even try, girl_  
_C'mon_  
_Please please me, whoa yeah, like I please you._

**~~~~~~**

Duncan felt the other immortal almost immediately upon exiting the plane. He looked around, trying to subtly find the source while his female companion tugged at his arm impatiently. He saw him standing outside the souvenir shop and stopped suddenly with a huge grin on his face.

"Fitzcairn," he called out to get his attention. 

He freed himself from Cyndi's hold, hoping to catch his friend before he could slip away. Of course, Fitz would have sensed him as well, but that didn't mean he would wait to find out who was there. 

Fitz smiled and dropped his carry-on to the floor as Duncan approached. "MacLeod. What the blazes are you doing here, laddie?"

"I might ask you the same thing. Actually, I'm here with a friend." He looked towards Cyndi and waved her over.

She grinned, and edged her way through the throng of people who were now filling the airport concourse. "Hiya. I'm Cyndi."

"Cyndi, this is a good friend of mine. Hugh Fitzcairn. Fitz, this is Cyndi."

Fitz bowed with a flourish to bestow a kiss to the back of her hand. "Duncan always did have exquisite taste, my dear."

Duncan rolled his eyes when she blushed. "Fitz. You never did say what you were doing in New York."

"Nor did you, MacLeod." Fitz answered cheerfully.

"We're here for the Beatles concert," Cyndi interjected, her voice rising slightly to be heard over the increasing bustle of the crowd.

"As am I," Fitz added as they started walking towards the baggage claim. "I'm here as a journalist for a magazine out of Britain. I'm covering the concert tomorrow night."

"You are?" Cyndi squealed. Duncan winced. Beside him, Fitz appeared to be fighting the urge to laugh. Duncan glared. Fitz ignored him.

"Yes, I am, dear lady. Would you like to meet them?"

"Would I? That would be, like, so groovy. Duncan.... Oh gosh." She hopped up and down beside them while Fitz openly grinned and Duncan scowled.

They came to the escalators, and Duncan stopped. Turning to Cyndi, he reached into his wallet and pulled out some bills. "Cyndi. Why don't you get us something to snack on and Fitz and I will get our baggage."

She snatched the money from his hand and pecked him on the cheek with a kiss. "Cool. Catch you back up here?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep us away," Fitz supplied helpfully.

"Thanks." Duncan gripped him by the arm and led him none too gently to the escalator.

"Nice, MacLeod. Doesn't seem like your type though," Fitz commented once they reached the baggage claim.

"Yeah, I guess she isn't. But maybe I need someone who's not my type, for a change." He sighed heavily when his comment was met by a raised eyebrow. "The last decade has been rough, Fitz. I don't know. Cyndi is uncomplicated. And she's fun to be with. This..." He waved his arm to indicate the banners covering the airport walls. "...is a little strange for me. But, it's a small price to pay."

"Well, she's certainly nice to look at." Fitz smirked openly. "One of the best things about this decade is the sexual freedom. This is my decade, MacLeod. Women don't have to sacrifice anymore. They can freely love me."

Duncan laughed at his friend's audacity. "It's not like that, Fitz."

"You mean you and she haven't ...?" Fitz asked incredulously.

Duncan laughed again at his friend's shocked expression.

Duncan picked up his luggage, then walked with Fitz to collect his. He cocked his head toward the escalators going up to the main floor. "Come on, Fitz. Let's go meet the Beatles." 

"Mac, did you know you have a doll hanging out of your coat pocket?" Fitz grabbed his suitcase and fell in step beside him.

Duncan grinned and patted his pocket. "Yeah, it's Dena's. Cyndi's little sister." He answered Fitz's questioning look. "She wanted to come, but I was afraid of trying to keep up with a six year old in the crowds they're expecting. So I told her I would bring her best friend instead. Think they'll autograph her for me?"

"I always said you had a soft heart, Macleod."

Duncan turned to glare at his companion.

Fitz met his glare with an amused grin. "Or was that a soft head?"

**~~~~~~**

They were tired, their energy well spent during the concert and party afterwards. Duncan started the car and reached to put it into gear.

"Duncan." Cyndi stopped him with a touch of her hand.

Something in her voice caught his attention, and he turned towards her. "Something wrong?" God, he hoped not. He was too tired to deal with anything now. All he wanted was a light meal and a soft bed. Preferably with a soft, sweet smelling body next to him. It had been a long time. Too long, he conceded to himself.

But his last romantic entanglement had ended painfully and he had willingly made the choice to abstain from sex. His current relationship existed in a comfort zone that was allowing him to finally heal. It was easy. Fun and playful. Which was one of the reasons he now found himself at Shea Stadium, along with sixty thousand screaming fans, who came to see four British musicians perform onstage.

But, he also had to admit that he missed the intimacy of a sexual relationship. Which wasn't going to happen any time soon, he reminded himself. And right now, they needed to get a good night's sleep. He'd promised to show Cyndi around New York before their afternoon flight home. Tomorrow evening, he'd have Cyndi home safely, as well as one Barbie doll that now had four famous signatures decorating her perfect plastic torso.

"No. Everything is right. Well," she said, suddenly very shy. "I guess it depends on you."

"On me?" He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He was exhausted. Did he miss something? He was clearly not following the conversation.

"Duncan, I've started the pill. I'm ready, you know."

"Cyndi, I...."

"No, don't say anything. Just listen to me." She scooted up next to him and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I want you to be my first."

"Cyndi, I don't know what to say. I can't make you any promises."

"Did I ask for any promises?" She placed her hand gently on his chest. "Duncan. I don't want any promises," she said softly.

He stared at her, too stunned to respond.

"There's a new world out there for us, Duncan. It's wide open and free. And I want to be free with it. I don't expect anything from you. Hell, I know you're going back to Paris. I'm cool with it, you know. I'm going to get my degree, and someday I'll fall in love. Until then I just want to live. Please," she added, her words spoken with a whisper of breath before her lips descended on his.

**~~~~~~**

He eased into her gently as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Christ, she was hot and tight. He waited until she relaxed and began to thrust inside her. He kissed her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, smelling the fruity residue of her shampoo as he slid his mouth to the baby soft skin of her neck.

Beside them soft melodic sounds emitted from the clock radio.

_A taste of honey... tasting much sweeter than wine_  
_I dream of your first kiss, and then,_  
_I feel upon my lips again,_  
_A taste of honey...tasting much sweeter than wine._

**~~~~~~**

Duncan replaced the concert program back into the envelope, and listened to the sounds of his lover moving around in the background. He heard the phone ring, followed by his lover's strong deep voice when he answered. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and let the gentle tones wash over him. Methos had a sexy voice. Sometimes gentle and loving, other times witty or bitingly sarcastic. But always sexy. And comforting.

He returned the envelope to the chest, then paused, his hand hovering in mid-air. His throat suddenly became constricted, and he choked on a breath.

_I think I'm gonna be sad, I think it's today, yeah_  
_The girl that's driving me mad is going away_  
_She's got a ticket to ride,_  
_She's got a ticket to ride,_  
_She's got a ticket to ride,_  
_But she don't care._

**~~~~~~**

_**October 1965** _

Duncan knocked on the door, his gut twisting with trepidation. He didn't want to leave them. Not now. Even though his and Cyndi's relationship had never been based on true love, or even great passion, he had come to think of her family as his own.

Her parents had always welcomed him into their home, and he had no doubt they would always continue to do so. Her little sister had become a permanent fixture in his life with her big brown eyes and impish grin. In many ways she was the daughter he could never have, and he took her into his heart gladly. He'd spent many nights reading to her and her Barbie, tucking her into bed with a kiss, or playing with her while Cyndi prepared for the ride back to the University.

It had become easy, comfortable. And far too dangerous -- for them. Which he finally had to admit when the other Immortal showed up.

He didn't know him. It started with a series of threatening phone calls. Duncan was being followed. Far enough away that Duncan hadn't felt the other Immortal's presence, but close enough that he knew where Duncan had been, who he had seen, and who he cared about. When challenged, he laughed.

_"Not yet, MacLeod. You have to find me first. Where do you think I'll be? Hmm? At the University paying your girlfriend a visit? Or, I know...." He chuckled wickedly. "Maybe I'll play with your little friend instead. What's her name? Ah yes. Dena."_

It was past time to go. He had to distance himself from them. He would kill the bastard, whoever he was, and leave before anyone else came hunting for him. He couldn't -- wouldn't -- let them be put at risk again.

The door swung open and he met Cyndi's eyes. She knew. He could see it in her face. The tears came. But she understood.

"I'm going across country with friends this summer. It's going to be groovy, you know. Just kick back with a little weed and see America."

"That's good. You'll like that." He tried to smile and failed miserably.

"Hey, maybe I'll get to Paris someday."

"Maybe you will." He didn't know what else to say, and perhaps she didn't either. The silence spread out uncomfortably between them. "I need to be going."

"Sure." She kissed him lightly on the lips, and he hugged her to him, kissing her back with a slow gentle press of his mouth. Separating, he stepped back and looked around.

"Where's Dena?"

"Oh, she's already in bed, but I think she's still awake. Wanna say good bye?"

He glanced toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms at the back of the house. "Yeah. I guess I'd better." His legs felt heavy as he made his way down the hallway to her room. In his heart, he had known Cyndi would understand. But how did he explain it to the little girl who had become so important to him?

Arriving at her room, he stopped and knocked on her door. She was already sitting up when he entered, and he went to the bed to sit down beside her.

She hung onto him tightly until he pried her little arms from around his neck. "I don't want you to go." She said unhappily, the tears already collecting to flow down her cheeks.

"I don't want to go either, sweetheart. But I need to. You'll write to me, won't you?"

"Uh huh. I know how. I'm learning in school."

"I know, and a mighty fine job you're doing, too." He forced a smile. "I'll miss you, sweetheart. But it won't be forever. I promise I'll try and come back. Until then we'll write. I'll even call your parents on the phone when I can." He leaned over and kissed her one last time as he prepared to leave, stunned when her Barbie doll was pulled out from under her covers and thrust at him.

"Dena?" 

"So you won't be lonely. She'll tell me stories when you bring her back."

He turned the little doll over in his hand and smiled, unmindful of the tears streaming down his own face. "Like the time she went to the Beatles concert with me?"

His answer was a sob as she flung herself back into his arms.

"I'll bring her back soon, Dena. I promise."

**~~~~~~**

He had intended on killing the bastard and leaving, keeping in touch with his friends from Paris until he was sure it was completely safe to return. Until then, he would write or call. But he would return, if for no other reason than to keep his word to Dena, and bring her best friend back home to her.

And he did kill him, but it was a brutal fight that left both Immortals wounded and bloody. What Duncan hadn't counted on was the couple who made a wrong turn and inadvertently stumbled onto their duel. Or that he would be killed, even as his katana sliced through the other Immortal's neck, separating the man's head from his shoulders. He'd seen the couple's horrified expressions before he died. 

At the time, he hadn't understood why he wasn't in the morgue when he came back to life. The news reports gave the story in grim detail, both on the television and the front page of the newspapers. But when he came to, he was safely away from the city, his bags packed beside him. The news article stated that the other man's body had still not been identified. Not even by his fingerprints or dental work. Or lack of, in this case.

_Close your eyes and I'll kiss you,_  
_Tomorrow I'll miss you;_  
_Remember I'll always be true._  
_And then while I'm away,_  
_I'll write home ev'ry day,_  
_And I'll send all my loving to you_

**~~~~~~**

Duncan closed his eyes against the accumulating moisture behind his lids and shook his head. He hadn't known about the Watchers then. At the time, all he had known was that he was dead there. To the entire Lewis family. Forever.

Duncan felt the heat of Methos' body as he sat down behind him. Methos wrapped his arms around Duncan and pressed him back against his chest. They sat there for long moments, the silence as much a comfort as the strong arms holding him close.

A gentle touch to his face and the pain eased away to a dull ache. A final tear was brushed away with a soft stroke of Methos' fingertips.

"That was Ryan on the phone earlier. He's waiting for us at Joe's. Should I call and...."

Duncan shook his head. "No. We'll go. I need a shower first though."

He started to stand, relieved when a strong arm reached around his waist to give him support.

"Duncan?" Methos pointed to the object Duncan was still clutching in his hand.

Duncan looked down and smiled. "It's a Barbie doll." He placed the doll back in the chest and closed the lid. Turning, he reached for his lover and took him in his arms. "I love you."

"I love you, too. You going to be all right?"

"Yeah. Start the water for me? I'll be there in a minute."

"Sure." Methos kissed him, a hard, quick pressing of his lips, before turning away.

Duncan watched the lanky form of his retreating lover and smiled. With one final shuddering breath, he found the letter and picked it up.

> >   
> 

_Dear Mr. MacLeod:_  


> > > >   
> 

_We regretfully inform you that Mrs. Dena Jerdan has died from terminal cancer. Per your instructions, all medical costs have been forwarded to your attorney. Please advise if you need my assistance in this matter._  


> > > >   
> 

_Yours Truly_  


> > > >   
> 

_Mr. Lyle Smith_  


> > > >   
> 

_Memorial Hospital_  


> > > >   
> 

_Seattle, Washington_  


> >  

_Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away_  
_Now it looks as though they're here to stay_  
_Oh, I believe in yesterday_  
_Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be,_  
_There's a shadow hanging over me,_  
_Oh, yesterday came suddenly._  
_Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say_  
_I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday_  
_Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play._  
_Now I need a place to hide away_  
_Oh, I believe in yesterday._

_FINIS_

**Author's Note:**

> Edited January 15, 2017


End file.
